Exile
by Aragon85
Summary: Prince Alfonso of Naples has fled his home seeking protection from the Borgia's. There whilst hoping for a marriage between he and his kinsman Ferdinand of Aragon's daughter, he meets the Pope's beautiful daughter Lucrezia. Will he regain his throne?
1. Chapter 1

The hooded young man stood on the fringes of the small Roman market taking in the sight before his calculating hazel eyes. The market was busy, movement happening so constantly that the weary traveller in exile could not keep track of any potential threat coming towards him. It seemed peaceful but one could never know. The traveller watched silently fretting when he spotted two papal guards passing by, or were they the French? He tried to blend into the background without looking too conspicuous. The papal guards passed without comment and Alfonso of Naples let out a sigh of relief he hadn't realised he was holding. He pressed forward through the crowd the dome of St Peter's in the distance luring him towards much needed sanctuary like the three wise men had been guided by the star over the birthplace of Jesus Christ. Alfonso took his time gently passing by the throngs of woman and children buying fish, fruit and God knows what else. As heir to the throne of Naples, he had long enjoyed a privileged life, but that however did not mean he had never been to a common market before. There was a stark difference, there would be a procession, he would ride one of the best horses in Italy and he would be dressed like a King. Now however to his dismay the local peasants pushed by him impatiently, some even shoved into his back causing him to stumble forward. He was about two more blows away from taking out his sword and hacking down everyone in sight when he made his way out of the crowded hobble of activity and found himself standing across from St Peter's Square.

The Vatican was a glorious sight, the so called Renaissance showed off the prestige and wealth of the Holy Father's home. The holy father Alexander VI of course had another home, and another country of origin. He was Rodrigo Borgia, a Spaniard, who cunningly gained the throne of St Peter's, a former Cardinal with a concubine who had spawned him four bastard children, Cesare who was said to be the most talented son, Juan who Alfonso had personally met and personally found wanting. There was a daughter Lucrezia who through his Milanese relations had learned that she was both pretty and naïve -, the baby of the family was Joffre Borgia, Alfonso's darling brother in law. Joffre could not have been any older than twelve and was married to Alfonso's elder half sister, herself illegitimate. That was the family he was travelling to see, he would seek aid from the only one of his father's many bastards that he loved let alone liked. And she would protect him, they had always been close he and Sancha. He could trust her even if the only fight her husband could conduct was a pillow one.

Limping towards St Peter's door Alfonso reflected that one day Peter would be standing at a gate upon his arrival, Alfonso put that thought to the side hoping it was many years from now. He was alive and he had a throne to gain back from the French King who was as foreign as he was ugly. The limp in Alfonso's left knee happened when his old trustee horse Orland had stumbled slightly, swaying and then threw him off. Orland had become as old and senile as Alfonso's father and Alfonso was saddened when he put the old horse down, but there had been also relief or was he thinking once again of his father? Orland unlike his father Ferrante had been unceremoniously thrown into a ditch as Alfonso had not got the time to prepare a mass and a proper grave, he hoped Orland and even St Peter would one day understand. The beauty and magnificence of the outer church halted as soon as the door closed instead one was surrounded by darkness and a daunting feeling. A sinner would not be able to stay, the eerie feeling of stepping into God's most sacred church would humble them. And how was it that he was able to walk in so easily? He had expected guards? Even a priest? Preferably the pope. But there was no one. Not one person in a church in Rome? So the rumours were true, Rome had become soulless, gone were the days of peace, prayer and celibacy, and now the papacy had gone to Hell. Nepotism, scandal, murder, sex, prostitution…Sancha really knew how to paint a beautiful picture of her new home. She had grown restless in Naples, not that she was the maternal type, she wasn't broody for an army of kids, she wanted…well sex.

Alfonso had thought of ways to improve his own fortune, his father's fortune, Naples's fortune whilst finding a way to scratch Sancha's itch and he proposed to the holy father that his sister Sancha marry the pope's elder eligible son Juan Borgia. To his dismay, irritation and amusement the unholy bastard Juan Borgia a mere son of a noble born pope had disregarded the proposal claiming he could not marry an illegitimate daughter of the house of Aragon, and would only accept a legitimate Princess. In what world did the man think they were living? Did he expect the Catholic Kings to give one of their daughters to him? Of King Henry of England to give his daughter to him? Alfonso could swear on Orland's grave that no King of Europe would offer their daughter to the foolish son of the pope. Back in Naples, Alfonso strutted around annoyed while Sancha had claimed she did not mind her latest rejection, while some woman eat their feelings, Sancha rides them out with Alfonso's male friends. And she had particularly hit close to home the last time with several of his best childhood companions. Alfonso had gotten his own back, he proposed that Joffre Borgia marry Sancha who had not known precisely how old her prospective bridegroom's age until her daft brother in law came to Naples and told her. Alfonso would have liked to have been present for the wedding but urgent political misery had been on the agenda in Naples for some time.

Pulling his mind back to the present Alfonso spotted a small man lurking in the background near the alter. Alfonso barely managed to stop himself from shouting out remembering that he was in a church. He strode over as best and as quickly as he could, cursing Orland once again as the sharp pain in his leg slowed him down, but alas he couldn't kill the stupid horse twice. The small man spotted him and anxiously looked around him, Alfonso hadn't the time to reflect that he looked like a maniac, having had little food and water, as well as wearing the same stable boy clothing since he left Naples, his face was rugged from the lack of shaving and his hair was more shaggy than he would have liked. Alfonso stood in front of the small man.

'Who are you?' Alfonso demanded from the man who nervously fiddled with the sleeve of his robes.

'I am Johannes Burchart, I am a priest and a lawyer for the Vatican, Who are you?' The man said in such a small quivering voice that Alfonso was forced to crane his neck to hear him. He ignored the man's question, waiting for the opportune moment for the big Royal reveal.

'I am looking for the holy father' Alfonso said adding silently that he was also looking for a miracle. Maybe catching the Holy Father would be the miracle. Burchart again nodded glancing around him, Alfonso was unnerved by the man's nerves and glanced around in case Charles VIII stepped out of the shadows showing his face and frightening Alfonso to death.

'The holy father is travelling with his family at the moment Signor' Burchart said shuffling from one foot to the other. Alfonso tried to keep his temper in check as he realised this little man would not say where? And since Alfonso never trusted a lawyer he was not inclined to trust this one, perhaps he was also pro-French. Alfonso had also dark thoughts of tying the man upside down and forcing the information out of him if he was at home he would have taken the man to his father's grizzly favourite room and shown him Ferrante of Naples's patiently long sought collection. However Alfonso was too humbled by the thought he was in St Peter's basilica and St Peter would not look upon such a punishment as justifiable having known a thing or two about it himself.

'Do you know where Don Joffre Borgia is?' Alfonso asked surely where Joffre was Sancha was trawling reluctantly behind him. Alfonso embarrassingly saw the man frown in confusion.

'That's the little one yes?' He asked him and Alfonso nodded seeing now how his little joke with Sancha had come back to slap him across the face. Alfonso looked at the man darkly.

'Is Juan Borgia here?' He asked hating he was forced to ask that buffoon for help. The little man's grey eyes widened slightly and he nodded looking relieved.

'Yes, the Gonfalonier is in his quarters' He said quickly and Alfonso smirked.

'Take me there at once' He ordered as the little man hesitated.

'Are you a friend of Don Juan?' He asked and Alfonso laughed priggishly, as cowardly as the little lawyer was Alfonso gave him points for having some inner strength to ask him that cautious question. He was asking if Alfonso had the urge to throttle Juan if they met…. Alfonso wondered if anyone else found Juan as annoying as he did, and if threats to the man's life was a common occurrence.

'Not really but this is a matter of life and death' Alfonso drawled chiding himself silently over his dramatic reply. Burchart did not recoil from Alfonso's words but nodded and gestured for him to follow. Alfonso nodded curtly and was led by the little man through the hallways from St Peter's towards the military compound. Alfonso gritted his teeth as his bad knee cried out for a rest. They passed various Vatican officials, clerks, lawyers, military men and concubines. Alfonso was on edge to point out that he could not truly tell which were the soldiers and which were the ladies but refrained as Burchart did not seem to have a sense of humour. They approached the Gonfaloniere's rooms and Burchart hesitated before knocking. Alfonso rolled his eyes.

'For God's sake man, will you just knock before he leaves Rome' He ordered huffing, Burchart raised a shaking hand and pounded on the door with more strength that Alfonso would have warranted him. They waited, and then waited….. And waited. Alfonso pressed himself closer to the door to hear if anyone was there, to his disgust he could hear the Holy father's son moaning in ecstasy, Alfonso rolled his eyes again, this young buck was going to make a Royal Princess a very happy lady. Alfonso stood back and decided to give the mighty Gonfalonier about twenty seconds. He waited patiently and jealously as he heard that idiot chanting 'yes, yes, yes!' Alfonso took a moment to reflect that Rome was indeed a city of miracles, if that man could charm a lady to fall into bed with him, so could he Alfonso of Naples…..without needing to promise the lady offices and titles for her father and brothers. Although Alfonso was no virgin, he was not wildly chasing ladies like his father had a hundred years or so before, mistresses were to be used and then discarded, wives were for heirs, love was a rare possibility but not something to pin ones hopes on. Besides all relationships that started in love, end in disaster.

Alfonso thirty second later heard Juan thankfully shout out pleased with his lady friend and Alfonso moved from one foot to the other, he glanced at the lawyer and saw he was as red as a rose blushing profoundly like a little girl. Alfonso let out a little laugh and turned his attention back to the door. He almost put his fist through the door as he banged on it for Juan's attention. Juan had precisely forty seconds to extract himself from his lady friend, remove his sweaty body from his bed, peel the covers off him, find a pair of breeches as Alfonso was impatient, hungry and tired from his long journey from Naples. He was one step away from kicking the door down, Alfonso pounded on the door once more, he heard complaints from inside passing between Juan and his mistress. Alfonso was about to raise his bad knee to kick at the door when Juan swung the door back, his light brown hair was matted to his forehead, his cheeks ruddy, sweat dripping down them, and he was breathing like an oversized bull. Juan's eyes widened when he realised who Alfonso was.

'Prince Alfonso?' He asked loudly in surprise as Burchart exclaimed, Alfonso could see the bed behind Juan and saw that the man's lady friend seemed to fall off the bed in shock. Alfonso directed his attention back to Juan Borgia and just before he spoke, the mysterious lady friend came towards the door elbowing Juan out of her way. Alfonso was surprised, and then disappointed in himself that he was surprised when he saw his beloved sister Sancha standing in the doorway with a thin white sheet around her. It all happened so fast Sancha squealed and hugged her deranged brother, Juan spoke to Burchart with the self-importance he should not have, and Alfonso was bundled into the room quickly and the door slammed closed on the little lawyer's face. Sancha threw Alfonso into a chair and cupped his face examining and fretting over several of his bruises and cuts which marred what she described as his 'angelic' face as Juan stood in the background watching the interaction darkly.

'Make yourself useful Juan, pour him a generous cup of wine' She said and Juan moved towards the counter where he kept his drinks. Alfonso closed his eyes as Sancha caressed his face and soothed his unnerved senses. Their father had had many children, many were called Ferrante, some were called Alfonso, some were Federico, some were in their forties, some were in their thirties, all of them were either full or half siblings, Alfonso certainly had more half brothers than he had half sisters indeed he had nephews of the half blood his own age but for as long as he could remember it had been Sancha he had felt at peace with mostly. Juan handed him some wine which he greedily drank praying to remove the taste of river water from his taste buds knowing it will never be erased from his mind. He felt Sancha hug him again and he smiled. Sancha was the only person to hug him, his father had ceased to recognise him by the time he was three, and his mother had been gone just as long.

'I have been so worried about you' She muttered into his ear, he would have been more inclined to believe her had he met her praying in St Peter's and not servicing her brother in law - although it could have been worst she could have been having an affair with her father in law. Thank God for Gulia la Belle Farnese!

'Yes I believe you were' Alfonso muttered helping himself to some food on the table next to him, he examined the bread he picked up and almost cheered having discovered no trace of mould on it. As soon as Alfonso was watered and fed by his sister, Sancha launched in. She demanded to know of his escape from Naples, what had happened along the way? Who did he come with? What was his plan? Who? What? Why? Where? When? How? No wonder his father chose to deaf. As best as he could he tried to explain the last days of the Neapolitan court. How a deadly plague had spread like fire throughout their beautiful city, how many of their extended half blood family were dead, how many of his old friends were dead, how many of her friends were dead. The Palace was a graveyard and their father would be proud to know a last supper was in every room. He explained his flight under darkness with only two - now dead - servants on his old and trusty horse Orland, Sancha smiled affectionately and told Juan she had been taught to ride on Orland herself, she asked him to make sure grooms attended to the poor animal. Alfonso was building up the courage to tell her that Orland was in a better place when Juan offended him greatly.

'Could you have not have stayed, muster up an army and repel the French?' Juan asked and Alfonso curled his fist as Sancha dug her nails into him.

'Have you not seen their army, Charles seems to have brought all of France with him' Alfonso snapped as Sancha shushed them both and patted her brother affectionately. She called for some maids to prepare a bath for Alfonso who grunted in agreement. Alfonso was too tired to think how no one seemed too surprised that Donna Sancha was in her brother in law's rooms.

'Borgia? Where is your father?' Alfonso asked eyeing a particularly shapely lady with a nice face. Many men Alfonso knew did not care for faces, they insisted that was why the sun set and night came, but for Alfonso he was more picky he could not have any old sea monster hovering above him. Juan took a moment to answer Alfonso, if he was wondering whether or not to tell Alfonso the truth or perhaps that was simply how long it took him to form an answer Alfonso wasn't sure but eventually Sancha answered instead.

'He is visiting the Donna Lucrezia who is in a convent' Sancha said her eyes glistening meaning she had a very interesting story to tell Alfonso when she could. There was only three reasons why a lady usually went to a convent, to live as a nun, and the Borgia's didn't strike Alfonso as a particularly holy family, the second was to seek medical attention with a fatal illness and judging by Sancha excitement that could not be right, which left the last one, to cover the birth of an illegitimate child. Last Alfonso knew about Lucrezia Borgia was that she was married to Giovanni Sforza, a dull man who had a face only a mother could love, and considering she was only a skip of a girl it would not be too surprising to see if she strayed.

'My sister is living there until her divorce becomes final' Juan said folding his arms and Alfonso raised an eyebrow.

'Divorce?' He asked and Sancha explained that Giovanni Sforza and Lucrezia Borgia had no consummated their marriage, thus it was invalid. Alfonso remembered that brute of man had come to Naples once and had taken an interest in several busty ladies whilst there, but for the sake of appearances, the need for friendship with the Borgia's and the lure of the hot water from his bath Alfonso said nothing of the amorous sexual activities of Giovanni Sforza. Alfonso stood and began to strip as Juan excused himself, Alfonso shrugged at his hasty departure - they were all adults after all. Sancha sat away from him as he slid into his bath and let out a sigh of contentment for one moment he thought about handing the Crown of Naples with Charles VIII and wish him look, get a plot of land, make some money, live the life of luxury and find himself a busty beauty like the one who was scrubbing his back.

'So your brother in law sister?' Alfonso said shaking his head, Sancha smiled but did not turn to look at him, they were not _that close._

'Have you met my husband?' Sancha asked and Alfonso laughed - How could he have?

'No of course not' He told her and she nodded.

'When you do, you will understand' She said and Alfonso laughed noticing the busty lady cringing and he stopped.

'And where is Don Joffre?' He asked and Sancha fiddled with her hair as she answered.

'I suspect he is living with his mother Donna Vanozza, who is being visited rather frequently by her former husband Theo' Sancha said, Alfonso sat up intrigued, his sister knew how much he loved gossip which in her earlier letters to him had been full with it, obviously later Juan took up most her time.

'And what is her former husband this Theo?' He asked even if he hated his wife, and she mostly hated him, there was no way he would ever let her ever cuckold him.

'He was a Sheppard of some sort, I am not sure, Donna Vanozza has not quite warmed to me' Sancha who was sleeping with one of Vanozza's sons while being married to the other seemed oddly surprised. Alfonso bit his tongue to stop himself offending his dear sister.

'Are they reuniting?' Alfonso asked loving a good love story and Sancha smiled endearingly towards him as Alfonso began to scrub his arms.

'Who knows, he does not dress like a peasant, I have heard she has long given him money to support himself, apparently between them they own a number of inns in Rome and on the outskirts' She said and Alfonso nodded.

'And what of Cardinal Borgia and the Baroness?' Alfonso asked remembering that the Baroness was in fact the Dowager Baroness as her husband had been fished out of the Tiber, all of which Sancha has dutifully reported to him.

'She broke off communications with Cardinal Borgia, and from what I can squeeze from Juan is that she is living in a nunnery to repent for her sins' Sancha said clearly not favourable to that line of thought, only when she was dead would Sancha repent. Alfonso counted them on his fingers, one, Joffre, two, Lucrezia, three, Juan, four, Cesare, five, Vanozza - ah yes.

'And what of the holy father and his concubine?' He asked and Sancha said nothing for a moment then replied.

'Nothing' She shrugged, Alfonso found it hard that la Belle Farnese was producing more scandal for him to enjoy. Alfonso shooed the ladies away and he stood up naked from his bath and stretched over for the tower and wrapped it around his waist his sister glanced towards him.

'And what of you my dear little brother, what are your plans?' She asked and Alfonso smiled shaking his head allowing the wet to spray all over Juan Borgia's dirty sheets.

'I am here in Rome seeking sanctuary, I am not too far from Naples itself, I am here to make sure the Pope keeps to the alliance he made between us when you married Joffre his son' Alfonso said clearing his ears of wax, it was a habit he and Sancha preformed religiously as when they were very little it was how courtiers explained why their father could not hear them speaking to them, that his ears were full of wax, it was an innocent little story instead of telling two children their father was mad. Sancha stood and Alfonso could see she still had not dressed, he watched as she picked some of Juan's clothes and told him to dress in them. Sancha had handed him clean underwear, a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt and a vest with red and gold vertical stripes. They were roughly his size and they were thankfully clean.

'Now sister are you not dressing yourself?' He asked and she nodded.

'You should rest my darling brother, I will go off and find Juan, I will convince him to escort you to convent and introduce you to the pope and his mistress Gulia Farnese' Sancha said and Alfonso nodded about to protest he was not tired when he yawned against his will. His sister guided him from Juan's rooms and brought him down the hall without a care that she was in merely a sheet. She brought him into a room and forced to lie on the bed.

'I'm not even tired' He yawned moving in the bed to get comfortable. Sancha pulled a rug over him and he fell sleepily into a deep sleep not even hearing her leave and shut the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Thank you for the feedback, it's very welcome, here's the second chapter. Sorry for the long delay, blame it on Writer's block.**

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><p>The three riders said little as they calmly made their way on the quiet country road. Their destination the holy Convent of San Sisto which lay several miles outside the walls of Rome. The reason of their visit was a less than holy. Juan Borgia assured his Neapolitan companions that they would reach it shortly, Alfonso of Naples was unsure how long 'shortly' really was and was once again growing tired of Borgia. From the moment Alfonso had woken up Juan had been at his side, while he ate his breakfast, while he dressed, while he and Sancha had made plans to visit the Holy Father, Juan had hovered around them breathing down their necks. At first Alfonso had thought it was he who Juan was determined not to let out of his sight, but then he realised it was Sancha who Juan was closely regarding, and it was Sancha who was smirking slyly. Alfonso knew her face well, and knew she knew a secret and was delighted that she was withholding it, he just could not figure out who she was with holding it from, he or Juan. With their plan set, Alfonso, Juan and Sancha had gathered together three horses, a bag full of coins and a change of clothes and made for San Sisto where apparently the whole Borgia clan congregating together. Juan said little about the nature of <em>why <em>the Borgia clan were all huddled in a convent together, if it was because Lucrezia Borgia was seeking an annulment was _that_ any reason for the strict secrecy. Alfonso didn't want to provoke him since his fate sadly was in Juan's little hands. They left before noon and set out from Rome with the sun glaring viciously at them, Juan for a Spaniard knew many things about Rome and entertained Alfonso with sightseeing as they left the Holy city. When they reached the countryside Juan had thankfully fallen quiet and Alfonso woke himself up with a little shake of his head. Ahead of him, riding close to Juan his sister called back to him.

'Not far to go' Sancha said cheerfully, she gave no hint that she was upset her father was dead, and her brother was spiralling in ruin. Alfonso grunted in agreement wishing he could have some of her cheerfulness, but they came from different mothers, there was bound to be differences between them. Alfonso wondered again if anyone was ill, Juan was acting rather suspiciously simply over an annulment. Alfonso's thoughts drifted to his mother who contracted an illness, retreated to a convent and never saw the light of day again. Alfonso could just barely remember her face. She had been a beauty, but while King Ferrante had been deaf she must have been blind to have lain in bed with him. Alfonso looked up suddenly to find his sister nudging him in the ribs, How had she gotten back to him so quickly?

'You look as if you'd fall asleep brother' She said with a grin, he tried to smile in return but spoke the truth as he always did with her.

'I was thinking of my mother, she died in a convent' He told and she nodded, she caressed his face softly while looking at him sympathetically.

'Who is ill Sancha?' He asked and her face changed to delight, which made him see that no one was ill, or it was someone she really did not like.

'Are you two coming?' Juan interrupted them and they turned their heads to look at him, he was eyeing Sancha rather darkly as she rolled her eyes.

'Yes _darling_ we're right behind you' She said with a teasing grin, Alfonso saw Juan's stern face twitch slightly but even Sancha's teasing did little to rid Juan of his seriousness. He turned his horse harshly in position and pushed the poor animal on. Sancha gripped her reigns tighter, and tapped her own horse. She called back over her shoulder.

'I do wish you would have let me ride Orland, how much of rest could he be having!'

The answer was of course an eternally long one but Alfonso smiled but said nothing, she had been very attached to that horse and he hadn't the will to tell her, he thought fleetingly of telling Juan to tell her but that idea didn't sit well with him, it was he and Sancha who could talk to one another about anything not Juan and Sancha. The root of the attachment in Orland may have been because when their father Ferrante was a young man back in the dark ages, he himself had learned to ride a horse on Orland's great - great - great grandfather, and all little abandoned children wished to find some link with their parents, Sancha's was horses, Alfonso's was convents.

Several minutes passed without comment and Alfonso was left to having conversation with himself, something he deeply feared. He had been told as a child that his father had started to talk with himself before descending into madness, Alfonso had always since then insisted on talking to anyone about anything if it meant not having a conversation in his own mind. He looked ahead while Sancha and Juan were speaking, it seemed to be a happy conversation and Alfonso thought he saw the mighty Gonfalonier smile affectionately at Sancha. Alfonso turned away from them and stared out into the Roman countryside. He had always liked the countryside, it was soothing and peaceful, and it was here and now that for a moment he tried forget all the troubles that lay ahead of him, it would not be a smooth path, indeed he might even fail considerably.

Charles VIII had a magnificent powerful army with better equipment that Alfonso could even dream of. His soldiers were more advanced than anything Italy could spit at them, and that alone was one part of the problem. Italy had caved to Charles's demands, Florence, Milan had allowed the French to march through towards Naples. Even if for a crazy moment Alfonso was suddenly able to rally together these rivals, they still would not be able to take on the French. That is were his other plan and his sole hope lay, in the Catholic Kings Isabel and Ferdinand. Alfonso had sent a delegation to his 'cousins', he and Ferdinand _were_ cousins of some sort, Alfonso's father had been Ferdinand's much older first cousin. Ferrante and Ferdinand's fathers had been brothers, which meant any daughter of Ferdinand's was Alfonso's own third cousin, which sadly was in the forbidden degree of Consanguinity.

On a brighter note, Alfonso was on his way to the pope of Rome and in the event Ferdinand and Isabel had listened to Alfonso delegation which had snuck away from Naples around the time he did, they may take up his offer of marriage with one of their daughters, and help him win back his kingdom. Alfonso went through the list of their daughters, the eldest Isabella was set to marry against her heart to Manuel, King of Portugal, her beloved dead husband's uncle and successor. She was a good deal older than Alfonso anyway, so that did not bother him, the next one was Juana a high strung moody young lady who was married to Philip the Handsome a lusty young man around Alfonso's age, best of luck to the both of them. That left two likely candidates, Maria or Catalina the baby of the family. Maria was Alfonso's age, she was said to be no great beauty - odd in a family known for their good looks - but like her sisters, Maria was a highly educated Infanta of Spain. Catalina was around twelve and was set to be wed to Prince Arthur the heir to the throne of England but who knew how long the English would keep a King on the throne, since for the past forty years they kept changing their minds.

Ferdinand also had an illegitimate daughter, obviously no daughter of Isabel, but the girl another 'Juana' was brought around with the family as they moved from palace to palace, Alfonso had heard she was a pretty young woman but she again was older than all of Isabel's daughters. The fear Alfonso had about her was that Ferdinand and Isabel may try to deceive or coerce him to accept an illegitimate bride if they were reluctant to marry their legitimate one. With a look in his two companion's directions Alfonso prayed to the all mighty that Ferdinand would not make him marry the bastard daughter, and would marry him to his third legitimate daughter. Alfonso remembered the chuckles when the King of the Scots was deceived by them as well and almost arranged to marry the bastard Juana. As nice as the illegitimate Juana may be, legitimacy was a demand for a reason, legitimacy maintained that those born in legitimacy inherited their rightful share because quite simply they were lawful. Alfonso could not rebuild the house of Aragon in Naples with an illegitimate bride no matter who her father was and if she was intelligent. People had standards and demands, they expected a Queen to be lawfully begotten from a holy sanctioned marriage under God's terms and Alfonso needed to follow that line as God intended it to be. Monarchy and Royal blood were sanctioned by God, he needed to respect that, and hopefully the Catholic Kings would also.

Alfonso's own terms were rather fair, he expected no dowry, but hoped that Ferdinand and Isabel would assist him in claiming back his crown with their own mighty Spanish army, and he would make their daughter his Queen, and he would make their grandson the next King of Naples, and he would be an enemy of France for as long as he breathed, and indeed would haunt them when he was dead. Hatred of the French something he knew they required in all their children's marriage contract. He had not heard anything back from them, but he hadn't expected it, he'd give his messengers another week before he developed a sweat where they were concerned. Alfonso turned back to his sister, he had failed to mention that aspect of his plan to her over breakfast with Juan beside them. He needed to keep some cards close to his chest, while he figured his way through this murky difficult task. Again with his French problem his childhood fears resurfaced, he was no solider, he could never lead an army. Alfonso tried to calm himself down reminding himself that even Generals sent their pawns into battle while they remained on the sidelines barking orders. Another fear was that he wasn't particularly charismatic, the people of Naples had never held much love for him, again the small voice in his mind reminded him that they would prefer him as King Alfonso II than a French King Carlo.

'Your majesty would it please you if we stopped for a moment' Juan said and Alfonso turned back to look at him. Alfonso saw that they were coming towards a small inn along the road and feeling thirsty from the baking Roman sun Alfonso quickly agreed. The three of them came to a stop, Alfonso reminding himself of his bad knee slowly dropped down from his horse but winched from the pain. He tied his horse to a wooden railing and made his way inside with Sancha and Juan. In his experience as living little better than a peasant Alfonso found it all very educational, on his way to Rome he had been in several inns beforehand and seen the seediness, drunkenness and disorder that usually entertained him.

This inn was no different even if it was the early hours of a Friday morning when all these serfs should be working the fields. Alfonso barely listened as Juan told him to find a seat as Sancha went to 'freshen herself up' and Juan went 'in search of drinks'. Alfonso drifted away to a corner ignoring several busty woman old enough to be his grandmother trying to convince him to sleep with her for little to no money. Looking at the face of a lady who would not budge and looked like a bulldog he assured her he'd rather remain celibate, she did not take too kindly to that but left him on his own. While he smiled at his little joke he could not help but feel sorry for her, he looked around the inn and wondered about the different stories that they all had. He should be the King of Naples, he should be crowned by now, he should be living in a palace, but for reasons which were not entirely his own fault he was brooding in a corner of a peasants inn. He looked towards the frightful prostitute once again and felt a wave of sympathy for her, God had done her much disservice when he had allowed her to be born with that face. Alfonso smiled amusing himself with wild stories to explore if she and the King of France were related. Alfonso lay back into the wall of the inn wondering how long Juan would take to get his 'drink' and Sancha would take to 'freshen up', bored, and knowing they may be gone some time Alfonso stood up and made his way towards the innkeeper who stood behind a bar wiping a beer mug with a filthy looking rag.

'Give me something strong' Alfonso asked him flipping a gold coin his way, the man abandoned his dirty task, pocketed the coin and went about to get Alfonso his drink. Alfonso turned back again and looked to the people in the tavern. He saw two men fight over another frightful looking Roman woman, he turned to look at an old toothless man - reminding Alfonso of his father - chatting happily to himself. The keeper returned with a dirty mug and Alfonso eyed the ghastly dark beer contemplating whether or not to take a sup of it, he had been afraid to ask for Wine. He thanked the man and made his way back to the corner were he wished to hide from everyone else, along the way he stepped over the loser of a fight and managed to just in time to avoid bumping into a two arguing women. Sitting down and watching the chaotic nature of the peasant class he was suddenly grateful to be born a Prince, even if he would possibly never have a moment's peace once he organised an opposition to King Charles. Alfonso watched as the same dog faced prostitute began to walk past.

'Woman!' He called to her if indeed she _was_ a woman, she stopped looked at him and growled in his direction and Alfonso fought a laugh.

'Come here' He ordered her and she came closer to her, by God she was hideous. She and his father would have made a handsome pair together, Alfonso tried not to outwardly cringe at the children they would have had.

'I am sorry for what I said before' He told her and she looked at him in surprise, he supposed she had not encountered _true_ gentlemen before.

'It was very unkind of me, what is your name?' He asked and she hesitated.

'Maria' Alfonso's face fell, he thought about sending a messenger in great haste to Spain and demanding Catalina de Aragon as his bride instead of her sister. Forcing a smile he nodded.

'Forgive me Donna Maria' He said and held out a gold coin to her, she took it hesitating slightly.

'Will I find us a room?' She asked just as he finally brought the beer up to meet his lips, shocked and disgusted he spat it all out only narrowly avoiding her face. Looking hurt again by his rejection he thought of the first thing that entered his mind.

'I'm married' He said by a way of explaining his rejection of her, she looked at him again oddly.

'What a lucky young woman' She said and he could not tell whether she was serious or not, she bid him farewell and she went her way. Alfonso chuckled quietly to himself. Finally he saw his sister and Juan emerge from the back of the room and make their way towards them. He shook his head, and brought the dreadful beer to his lips again. Unfortunately it wasn't even cold, and it tasted bad.

'Whose your _girlfriend_?' Juan asked with a smirk, Alfonso fought the sudden urge to slap him and fixed a false smile on his face.

'I don't know she only told me her name was Vanozza, then you two returned' Alfonso said and Juan gritted his teeth at him but retained his pleasant smile. They drank in silence, only Sancha spoke up every minute or so pointing out a new fight, or laughing at the attempted dancing of three old men. When they were done they left the inn and stepped outside and Alfonso breathed in the clean air, and allowed the sun to shine on him, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply enjoying the country air opposed to the sweat and sickly smells from the inn.

'Come along Alfie' Sancha called and Alfonso mounted his horse, and they made their way once again to San Sisto. For a journey promised to be short Alfonso was again reaching the end of his patience, he was tired of his wanderings, he was tired of hiding. He would speak with the Holy Father of maintaining his alliance with Naples, and he would speak with the Holy Father about Alfonso's planned alliance with the Catholic Kings, they would rid Italy of the French. Slowly the convent came into view as a clearing in the trees opened up, a tall wall surrounded the abbey, and Alfonso followed Juan and Sancha as they came towards the gates of the Abbey. Juan jumped down of his horse, and help Sancha, Alfonso jumped down on his own, the three of them guiding their horses made their way inside the abbey gates and towards the great oak solid large doors. Alfonso had never been to a nunnery, and as he looked around he found it odd how no one was outside on this glorious day. Juan knocked on the big oak door and they waited, Alfonso tipped his sister's shoulder, she had promised to tell him when she got a moment to tell him why Lucrezia Borgia was really in a nunnery. He watched as Sancha shook her head, her smile still planted on her face, she mouthed the word

'S-C-A-N-D-A-L' and then turned her attention back to Juan Borgia. Alfonso regarded them for a moment and thought about Lucrezia Borgia, she was attempting to divorce Giovanni Sforza as any woman would, therefore Alfonso realised that the said lady Pesaro had given birth to an unwanted child. Before anyone could speak, a panel on the oak door slid open harshly.

'State your name and your purpose' A middle aged nun said, Juan stepped closer to her.

'Don Juan Borgia, here to see my father the Holy Father' Juan said a his self important tone, the nun more holy than them all looked at him for a moment, then slammed the panel closed. Alfonso smiled wondering how the abbess felt about allowing the Pope in her abbey with his _children_. The door opened but the nun was unseen and Juan, Sancha began to walk inside, frowning Alfonso followed them he stepped into the bare hall and watched as the cloaked nun shut the door and the sun out. The only light they had was from the small windows and some candles which led the way into the abbey. Another figure came slowly down a narrow corridor and stopped in front of them, this lady was much younger, Alfonso felt awful about his unholy thoughts concerning her when he realised quite how beautiful she was, he glanced nervously skyward and assured God that he would not do anything untoward. The young nun curtsied to the abbess and the abbess spoke up.

'Sister Martha you are to take Don Juan Borgia to the rooms were the pope is' She said and Sister Martha - Alfonso wondered if that was her real name - nodded solemnly. The abbess walked off without another word, Alfonso could feel the hostility coming off her, and he wondered if in all her years she had ever had some many visitors as today.

'Forgive me Sister Martha but would it be acceptable if Donna Sancha comes along with me, and Don Alfonso waits here?' Juan asked as Alfonso scowled and Sister Martha raised an eyebrow. Alfonso watched her glance to Sancha, her eyes widening slightly but she turned her head back to Juan and nodded.

'Of course, if you would wait here' Sister Martha said to Alfonso and he smiled and nodded, it was not Sister Martha's fault for Juan's stupidity. Martha turned her head and indicated that Juan and Sancha should follow her down the narrow corridor, Sancha requested quietly for him to do as he was told, something she had not uttered to him since he was five. He hadn't liked her telling him then, and he certainly did not like her saying it now, but he watched quietly as they disappeared into the narrow dark corridor. Alfonso waited as his sister requested whilst she and the Borgia who was not her husband sought out his father, the pope Alexander. Alfonso stood in the Abbey hall waiting quietly wondering how many seconds had passed since his sister disappeared and if it were possible she located the holy father within that time. He tried to think of several ways to pass the time, stare in space, examine his fingernails, fix his hair, tap his foot and still his sister to did not return with her father in law. A layer of sweat rested on his forehead, the ride to the Abbey had not soothed Alfonso, as Juan Borgia was as useless as remained politically correct when speaking of his father's aims... or perhaps he simply was not privy to his father's inner most thoughts.

Either way Alfonso was beginning to doubt his judgement in seeking the Holy Father's assistance and reminding the man of God that he had promised to aid Naples when he married his youngest son Joffre to Sancha d'Aragona, daughter of Ferrante of Naples, the deceased King, and in turn he should by treaty offer his support to Alfonso, the true King of Naples. He truly hoped Sancha would have told him the truth why they were here. She may not be to her husband, but Alfonso always found her to be loyal, for her not to tell him was unusual and disappointing. When he had arrived Alfonso had not properly looked at his surroundings, beside the darkened corridor there was another door, he slowly made his way towards it, boredom and curiosity were telling him to do so. Cautiously with one eye open - he did not want to come across a nun's bathing area and be burned at the stake - he opened the door, he saw it led out into a garden, he opened the door fully and glanced back into the abbey.

Sancha and Juan could be a while finding the Holy Father, and quite possibly it would take several minutes to come back to Alfonso, he had some time to step outside for more air. Wincing again as the Roman countryside sun shone brightly into his eyes Alfonso moved out towards the open gardens. It had been missing on their ride here, but a light cool breeze had finally come and cooled Alfonso considerably. He finally allowed himself to miss his home. He missed Naples, he missed his rooms, he missed his castles, he missed his few friends, his much fewer lady friends, and to be truthful he missed his power. Here though in the Roman countryside it was peaceful, the air was clean, smelling of grass and trees a light contrast to spending most of his days at Castel Nuovo while the sea breeze shoved the smell of fish, seagulls and his father in his face almost constantly. It had been a hard task to feed his father, never mind bathing him. Alfonso slowly made his way around the Abbey gardens admiring the job the nuns quite possibly did themselves - he couldn't say he had never been to a nunnery before, he made a mental note to ask Sister Martha when he had the chance. The grass was freshly cut, the trees trimmed, the flowers well taken care he ever returned to his throne in Naples, he made another mental note to remind him to hire nuns as his gardeners.

Silently making his way around the gardens Alfonso smiled, he stopped suddenly hearing a low noise, his hand went to his sword strapped to his belt and he paused realising the threat was no threat and that someone was simply humming a song. Alfonso paused the song very familiar to him, he walked slowly towards the sound recalling his own childhood, his own mother had sung the song to him while she tried to get him to go to sleep. Alfonso stopped in his tracks when he turned around the corner of the Abbey and saw the culprit. He could not make out her face, nor how old she would be as her back was too him. She hummed sadly to himself and he felt drawn to ask her what had made her so sad? He noticed she was sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs as if for comfort, as she stared into the clear water at her own reflection. He could see that she had golden hair, her skin was pale reminding him of porcelain. He watched as she fiddled with a bracelet, he continued to watch as fiddled with her hair in deep thought, only a small part of him was aware that if she were to look back and see him, she would think he was crazy because he could not turn his gaze away from her.

He watched when her bracelet snapped off her wrist, stopping himself from moving forward to retrieve it he was captivated when she let go of her legs and slid off the fountain and bent over, she stood up still not seeing him and he saw her face. Her face was pretty and round from where he stood he could not see the colour of her eyes. She was truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it took him several seconds to realise who she was. Indeed when he realised who she was he was rather surprised. She was certainly younger looking than he expected, as her name was well known in Italy for her beauty and by the fact that the Holy father was inside. He was about to introduce himself when he thought better of it, it was not right for him to interrupt her when she looked troubled. It hadn't been right for him to stand there standing at her like a mad man. He went to turn around but in the quiet almost eerie silence his sword scrapped loudly against the Abbey wall causing her to turn her head sharply in his direction. Alfonso grimaced at being caught out and held up his hands to her to emphasis he did not mean any harm. He watched as she stood straighter as if she was preparing to fight him off. She looked over at him with a frown. It would be rude at that point to walk away without a greeting and Alfonso slowly made his way towards her. Upon reaching her he bowed like a gracious Italian gentlemen that he should be as she nodded curtly.

'My apologies for disturbing you Signora' He said too loudly for where he stood he tried to rid himself of the annoying butterflies in his stomach and begged for his face not to turn red, he could see her eyes were a deep blue, they were so deep he couldn't pull his own shoddy ones away from hers. What he found more surprising about them were that they were wide eyed, almost too innocent, he hadn't expected them to be so innocent, certainly her reputation was not about her innocence, and her hardships with her husband were well known but she still generated a calmness about her and his ruddy cheeks faded slightly.

'That is quite alright Signor, may I ask what you are doing in a convent?' She replied with a soft smile, he smiled in return the creases stretching upwards towards his eyes.

'I have business to discuss with the Holy Father, I believe he is here Signora' He said his voice lowered and she nodded but his simple sentence had almost a negative impact on her, her smile was gone replaced by firm lips pursed together as she jerked her head to look up at the Abbey. She looked troubled and he found himself wishing he could make her smile again.

'I must say it is no mystery why nearly all of Italy speak of you Signora' He said his lips quivering into a smile, to his horror she looked back at him with alarm.

'All of Italy speaks of _me_?' She demanded panic laced into her soft voice, Alfonso wished to hit himself for causing her distress, it was no wonder he ended up paying for ladies to entertain him. He looked at her quietly for a moment trying to find a way to climb out of the hole he had dug, perhaps a lady did not like to know of her reputation. Alfonso shifted from foot to foot uncomfortable, he had never been good with women, Sancha was the only one he remained around for a period of time, and even _she_ could get fed up of him.

'There is a reason of course why you are called Gulia la Bella' Alfonso said biting his lip wishing Sancha would rush up behind him and rescue him. To his surprise Gulia Farnese's face smiled again in amusement, the panic receding completely and she looked pleasantly surprised, somehow without knowing exactly, he had done the trick.

'And why do you think I am Gulia Farnese?' The blonde young lady asked and Alfonso frowned

'I believe the nickname pretty much gives it away Signora' He said as he watched the young woman smile, he again was not good with women but he seemed to have said something to cheer her from her melancholy.

'I am afraid I mistakenly mislead you Signor' She said with a small smile and Alfonso scratched the back of his neck in confusion.

'Oh and how is that lady Farnese?' He asked as he heard footsteps and turned his head to see Sancha, Juan and several others make their way towards them. Alfonso turned around completely as the Gulia Farnese came to stand next to him, a smile still planted on her face.

'Because Signor, _that_ is Gulia Farnese' She said pointing towards a tall thin woman with light red hair, Alfonso looked to the real Gulia Farnese and smiled she was a beauty certainly, he turned his head to look at the mysterious blonde.

'And what of you Signora la Bella? What is your name?' He asked his eyes staring into her blue eyes, she smiled secretively.

'Alfie' Sancha called and Alfonso turned his head to see his sister greet him. She was next to Juan Borgia once again, and a little boy who could be mistaken for their child. Alfonso's eyes drifted to a tall stern man with long dark black hair, his eyes drifted further to a handsome looking middle aged woman, before finally resting unmistakeably on the Holy Father and his younger concubine. Alfonso saw the Pope himself in fine robes approach him, before the blonde beauty next to Alfonso could reply the pope was bowing to Alfonso who tried not to show he liked when people bowed to him, and tried to act gracious.

'Please Holy father we are family, stand' He said pleasantly, the pope did and Alfonso took in the man's face, he was pale, not unlike the woman next to Alfonso, he had gray hair and blue eyes, if Alfonso hadn't been told the stories of Rodrigo Borgia's youth he would have still known the Pope had been a handsome man.

'Most gracious Prince Alfonso, I wish to welcome you most graciously to the Papal States, my son the Gonfalonier has told me of your difficult journey to our doorsteps, my I add I wish to apologise for not being in Rome when you arrived' Borgia said and Alfonso nodded with a thin smile.

'You apologies are not necessary Holy Father, I understand you yourself has had some unpleasant time of the late' Alfonso said and the Pope smile politely and nodded while his family glanced to one another, Alfonso heard his beautiful golden companion huff silently and moved off away towards the Borgia's. Frowning in confusion at the girl's reaction Alfonso looked back to the pope wishing to veer the conversation away from the Pope's recent invasion and forced coronation of Charles VIII and gestured towards the people around him.

'May I ask who everyone is?' He asked and the pope smiled and nodded. He gestured towards Gulia la Bella Farnese.

'This is Donna Gulia Farnese' He said not elaborating on exactly how involved she was with the Borgia family, if Alfonso was in a more frisky move he would have enquired. The pope then affectionately clapped the dark man's shoulder.

'This is my son Cardinal Cesare Borgia' Cesare bowed slightly, Alfonso liked him already.

'Welcome to Rome Prince Alfonso' He said and Alfonso nodded to him with a smile, they could be friends... The pope looked at Cesare proudly as Juan Borgia scowled in the background.

'I have heard much good of your Cardinal' Alfonso threw in just to make Juan Borgia look sicker and sicker, it worked while Cesare smiled but not as delighted as Juan would have been if the praise had been directed at him.

'May I introduce my third son, your brother in law Joffre' The Pope said and Joffre came towards Alfonso and Alfonso smiled pleasantly at him thinking in amusement how the wedding night went down.

'It is good to meet you Joffre, my sister tells me how you treat her kindly' Alfonso said with no lies needed and Joffre smiled and went back to stand next to his mother who took her little shy boy's hand. Donna Vanozza was then then introduced by the pope, it was rather intriguing to meet the former mistress and the mistress together. Alfonso could still see however the beauty of Vannoza's face and grace, they were a close knit family and he wondered if Gulia Farnese cared at all at her intervention. Alfonso looked towards the Signora la Bella to see her watch him curiously, the pope smiled at them.

'Ah Prince Alfonso, I understand you have met my daughter Lucrezia' He said with a grin as Lucrezia smiled and curtsied like her family had all attempted to do, Alfonso could not find his voice to stop her as he chanted silently in his mind her name over and over, she was Lucrezia Borgia, the current and soon to be former Lady Pesaro. He smiled at her, feeling wave upon wave of sympathy for her being forced to marry Giovanni Sforza, and the pope had struck him as a _kind_ father. Before he could stop himself, and indeed reflect how it must look to her family, he reached for her hand.

'Donna Lucrezia' Alfonso said slowly bringing the hand up for him to kiss lightly. He let go of her hand and smiled, she was not so old perhaps his own age, perhaps a year or two older. He was still surprised by her beauty, when the Borgia's had been hunting for a husband for her, they had made some discreet enquires about his own interest, he had laughed, again it was another joke coming back to slap him on the other side of his face. The pope summoned him back to reality.

'We shall go inside your majesty, we shall have something to eat, I daresay you must be hungry, and we can talk more privately' He said and Alfonso nodded barely able to take his eyes off Lucrezia, he would pay later for it, Sancha would not let his lapse of attention go without comment. Wordlessly he tore his eyes from hers and Sancha linked her arm through his, and they followed the Borgia's inside the convent. He only remembered as they entered the oak doors that one thing the snake Della Rovere had warned him about was never to eat from the same table as the Borgia's, and if you do, drink from their cup.


End file.
